


hard feelings (of love)

by cherryconke



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryconke/pseuds/cherryconke
Summary: Prompt: Felix is hit with a truth spell by an enemy. It's meant to get him to spill their battle plans, but instead he can't keep his mouth shut about how he really feels for Sylvain.—Fill for FE3H kinkmeme.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 23
Kudos: 542





	hard feelings (of love)

**Author's Note:**

> for a very big-brained [kinkmeme fill](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=1636936#cmt1636936):
>
>> Established Sylvix! Felix is hit with a truth spell by some enemy and it’s meant to get him to spill really important info about the Kingdom.
>> 
>> Instead, Felix can’t seem capable of shutting his mouth and ends up spilling all his most vulnerable emotions and his most embarrassing loveydovey feelings about Sylvain as well as spilling how hot he thinks Sylvain’s Huge Mclarge body is.
>> 
>> \+ Sylvain takes full advantage of this and fucks Felix while he’s still under the spell’s influence to hear his usually tsundere boyfriend openly beg and cry for Sylvain’s touch.  
> \+ Felix is visibly angry and humiliated at himself with the embarrassing truths he can’t stop confessing.  
> \+ During sex, Felix ends up confessing his insecurities about how he’s scared Sylvain finds him boring compared to everyone else he’s bedded and fears of Sylvain leaving him for someone who can truly satisfy him  
> \+ Felix also confesses super mushy things like wanting to marry Sylvain and have kids with him.  
> \+ Sylvain is so happy by everything Felix tells him he cries a little cus it’s like for a moment, he has again the openly affectionate and vulnerable Felix that made Sylvain able to survive his abusive childhood.
>> 
>> I’d like for this to end on a happy note with Felix realizing he needs to say loving things to Sylvain more often and Sylvain falling more in love over and over again. Trans or cis Felix are great!
> 
> (very unbeta'd) 

Sylvain watches Felix go down across the battlefield and his whole world stops.

It isn’t as dramatic as it sounds. There aren’t any bolts of lightning or crackling fireballs, no volleys of arrows to pierce through armor and flesh. Just a well-aimed burst of bright light, so similar to all the other spells being cast from the Imperial lines to their own. An insignificant blip in the grand scheme of things. If Sylvain hadn’t been keeping an eye on Felix’s muddied teal coat, he probably would’ve missed it.

He screams orders to hold the line to his second-in-command and abandons his battalion, riding recklessly across the sloping valley, digging his spurs into poor Lady’s flank. Sylvain doesn’t think twice as he shears through the flesh and bone of the soldiers attempting to drag a limp, unconscious Felix off, at first from the back of his horse and then from the muddy ground. He barely registers the blood spattered across his face and armor as he drives them back, finally getting the space to kneel at Felix’s side.

Panic grips his heart as Felix’s head lolls against him, his body ragdoll-limp in his arms.

“Fe, sweetheart, wake up, wake up, wake up,” Sylvain pleads, running a hand across the line of his throat. There’s a weak pulse there, thank the Goddess. He gives Felix a quick once-over, careful hands charting down his back and across his chest. There’s no visible wound, no blood seeping through any of his clothes, but that doesn’t mean whatever spell struck him isn’t internally wreaking havoc. 

_ Deep breath. _ Sylvain’s palms glow with the weak power of his healing ability, a mere fraction compared to what Mercedes or Annette can do. He places one hand across Felix’s forehead, the other over his heart, and he exhales, letting the magic rise over him in a steady wave, trickling through his fingertips. 

Felix groans, eyes flickering beneath his lids, and stirs in his arms.  _ Okay. That’s progress.  _

“C’mon,” Sylvain murmurs, keeping his tone low as he carefully hoists Felix up and into the saddle, propping him up against his chest. “Let’s get you back.”

—

By the time they ride into camp, Felix is almost half-awake, evident in the way he’s mumbling slurred nonsense against Sylvain’s chest – things that sound suspiciously like  _ love you  _ and  _ you’re so warm  _ and even a startlingly coherent  _ hate your armor, ’s too hot.  _

It takes Mercedes approximately four seconds to determine what’s wrong with him.

“It’s a truth spell,” she explains, not looking up from the wound on Ashe’s arm she’s busy wrapping with a clean bandage. “He isn’t injured, he’ll be just fine once it wears off.”

“A truth spell? Are you  _ sure?”  _ Sylvain can’t help the anxiety that creeps into his voice. He’s still carrying Felix against his chest, and the fact that he  _ isn’t  _ actively squirming to get out of his grip is a testament to how bad off he must be. But then Felix giggles  _ – giggles! –  _ up at Sylvain, looking sleepy-cute despite the mud smeared across his cheeks and the blood caked in his hair as he brings one clumsy hand up to cup Sylvain’s jaw.

“Your freckles… so cute,” Felix hums, smearing his thumb across his cheek. “Wanna… wanna kiss ’em.”

Warmth floods through Sylvain’s chest at the extremely uncharacteristic show of affection. When he looks up, Mercedes is smiling patiently at him. Ashe looks like he’s holding back laughter. “I told you. A simple truth spell. They were probably trying to interrogate him about the army’s plans.”

Felix perks up at the sound of Mercedes’ voice. “Mercie… Mercieee,” he whines, struggling weakly in Sylvain’s grasp. “You’re s-so  _ nice,”  _ he slurs through a wide yawn. “Can you heal me? It feels nice when you heal m–”

_ “Alright,  _ I think someone’s a bit tired,” Sylvain cuts him off amidst Mercedes and Ashe’s titters of laughter. “Let’s get back to the tent before you wake up and murder us all in the morning.”

“Why would I murder you? I love you,” Felix protests, frowning up at him. Sylvain’s heart flutters as he soothes him with a kiss, tucking Felix further against his chest as he turns to leave.

—

Felix’s sweaty palm is still anchored against Sylvain’s jaw as he carries him back through camp, ignoring the few curious looks cast their way. He’ll take Felix back to the safety of their tent and wait it out with him – Goddess only knows how many friendships he could make or break with completely unfettered honesty. He’s probably tired, anyway, with how he’s drowsing against Sylvain’s chest, completely unashamed at being carried bridal-style for the whole camp to see. 

Finally, Sylvain ducks into their tent and settles Felix down on their shared bedroll. 

“I’m tired,” Felix grumbles. “’nd cold.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Sylvain soothes, already getting to work on removing his own cuirass. “Let’s get you undressed and we’ll take a nap, alright?”

Felix wiggles on the bedroll, huffing, clumsy fingers plucking uselessly at the leather strap of his pauldron. “Will you undress me? I like when you do it.”

Sylvain’s heart swells with fondness as he sets his chest piece down and steps out of his grieves. Felix reaches for him as he kneels, needy hands pushing themselves through Sylvain’s sweaty, matted hair. He seems much more content like this, with Sylvain crouched over him, undoing the clasps of his cape and letting it pool beneath him – he looks sweet, almost young again, the frown-lines etched into his face smoothed over in innocent affection, and Sylvain can’t help but tease him a bit. “Yeah, Fe? What else do you like?” 

“I like your hands on me,” Felix admits, and  _ there’s  _ that tiny hint of a blush across the bridge of his nose as he gazes up at Sylvain. “I like seeing you after battles. All gross and sweaty like this.” Sylvain gives a startled laugh, unable to keep himself from bending low for a kiss. Felix hums, weaving his fingers through his hair again. “It means you survived. It means you didn’t break our promise.”

“I’d never,” Sylvain murmurs, pressing a flurry of kisses against Felix’s mouth as his fingers undo each button, stripping away Felix’s sweat-soaked shirt to run gentle hands down his bare chest, checking for any minor scratches or scrapes. 

“What else?” He asks – and maybe he shouldn’t exploit this rare moment of vulnerability, but on a normal day Felix would’ve just rolled his eyes and scoffed. Instead he just sighs, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“I like– I like how warm you are. How small I feel in your arms when you hold me. I like when you take care of me.” Felix’s voice grows quieter, faint and fuzzy as Sylvain strips his boots and gaiters off, laying them off to the side before crawling back up the length of his body. 

“I like that too,” Sylvain murmurs as Felix curls up against him. He hooks his chin over Felix’s shoulder to press gentle kisses down the back of his neck, carding his fingers through his matted ponytail, carefully pulling his hair tie out. 

It’s tempting to keep asking questions, but Felix looks so soft and sleepy like this, fragile in a way that Sylvain doesn’t remember seeing since they were both kids. He leans over to leave one last kiss on Felix’s forehead. “Sleep. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

“I love you,” Felix repeats, a muffled, sweet sound, lost to the blankets. 

—

When Sylvain wakes, it’s to Felix’s mouth latched against his neck and the slow grind of hips against his thigh. He chuckles, stretching against Felix. They must’ve slept a few hours – until nightfall, at least, if the twilit interior of their tent is anything to go by.

“Have a good nap?” Sylvain mumbles into Felix’s hair, petting his fingers clumsily through it.

“Yes.” 

Felix’s response is immediate – too quick, overly honest. Sylvain can  _ feel _ the heat of his blush radiating against his neck, and when he pulls back to blink down at Felix, he won’t meet his gaze. The hazy, giggly, almost-drunk effect seems to have worn off in sleep; now Felix just seems frustrated and full of pent-up energy.

“Has the spell worn off?” Sylvain asks tentatively, smoothing the hair back from Felix’s face.

Felix huffs. “No. I don’t think so.”

Heat pools in Sylvain’s gut as Felix goes back to sucking kisses into his neck, squirming against him. If the spell hasn’t worn off… Sylvain thinks of the types of things Felix had said earlier, before they fell asleep. Felix is usually a man of action, but he’d been disarmingly honest and sweet. Sylvain knows from experience that it usually takes hours of careful touches and teasing to get him to open up like that.

Sylvain looks down, pressing a soothing kiss to his forehead. He means to ask  _ how are you feeling,  _ but an entirely different question slips out instead, low and husky: “Did you dream of me?”

Felix pauses in his assault on his neck. “Yeah.”

Sylvain trails his hands down Felix’s bare sides, smoothing circles into scarred skin. “What was I doing in your dream?” He asks, pushing Felix back against the bedroll, propping himself above him. Felix goes without a fight, settling back into the sheets, his hands immediately wandering to loop around Sylvain’s neck. He looks adorable like this, his pout perfectly framed by peach cheeks.

“Y–you were–” Felix starts, peach bleeding to crimson. “You were inside. Filling me up.”

He sounds incredibly embarrassed, so Sylvain rewards his honesty with a long, slow kiss, pouring his all into it. They’re both breathless when he breaks away – he can feel the shallow swell of Felix’s chest against his as he inhales deep. “Yeah? What else was I doing?”

Felix squirms beneath his gaze, but Sylvain holds steady, fingers rubbing back and forth against the jut of his hip bone, playing with the hem of his smalls. His voice gets small and shy as he ducks his head against Sylvain’s. “You were… playing with my– my nipples.”

Sylvain hums into their next kiss, pleased. “Do you like when I do that?”

“Yes.”

He brings one hand back up, circling the rough pad of his thumb around one soft pink nipple. Felix’s breath hitches against his cheek, and when Sylvain looks back to him his eyes are half-lidded, his cheeks positively aflame. “Do you like when I fuck you?”

Felix sobs out a whine, looking thoroughly overwhelmed and embarrassed. “Y– yes.”

And Sylvain feels a little bad peppering him with inescapable questions, but he’d tell him if he didn’t like it, right? Isn’t that the whole point of a truth spell – honesty?

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” Sylvain asks, just to be sure.

Felix nods, eyes fluttering shut when he continues working his hands: pinching gently at his nipple, trailing down to where he’s hard and leaking in his smalls. Felix whimpers, the sound going directly to Sylvain’s cock. “What’s your favorite way for me to fuck you?”

“W– when you hold me,” Felix mumbles. Sylvain shifts to let him bury his face into his neck, blush hot against his skin. He rubs his palm across the front of Felix’s smalls, drinking in the mewl he makes at the sudden contact. “When you kiss me and call me–”

“Call you what, Fe?” Sylvain can’t help the delighted smile that bleeds into his question.

_ “Sweetheart,”  _ Felix says miserably.

“I like that too,” Sylvian murmurs, kissing all the way down his neck, pausing to teeth gently at the slope of his shoulder. He makes quick work of both of their smalls, even though there isn’t much room to maneuver beneath the covers of their bedroll, helping Felix wiggle them down his hips and kick them off. They’re both bare, but the chill in the air can’t touch him through the heat of Felix’s body beneath his. “I like knowing that I make you feel good.”

“Do _ I _ make you feel good?” Felix gasps, crumpling against him as Sylvain takes both of their cocks in hand, slick with precum, temporarily distracted by how heavenly it feels: the ridge of Felix’s cock catching on his own, their soft, sensitive skin hot with need. 

Sylvain furrows his brows. “Of course you do.” 

“Sometimes–” and Felix’s voice cracks in shame, which gives Sylvain pause. He rolls off of him and pulls him into his side, cupping his hands around Felix’s cheeks. “Sometimes I think I must be boring, compared to who you’ve been with before. I– I know I’m not good at this stuff, I have less practice than you, you don’t have to lie–”

Something in him threatens to break when he tips Felix’s chin up to meet his eyes and sees the wet glimmer of tears there. “Hey, hey, no, sweetheart, don’t think like that.” Sylvain pulls Felix closer, kissing him fiercely. “I love you, okay? You make me feel so good. There’s no one–” he brushes the salt from the corners of Felix’s eyes with his thumbs,  _ “–no one  _ I’d rather be with.” 

“Can I make you feel good now?” Felix asks, and his heart cracks in two.

“Anything,” Sylvain whispers. “Anything you want.”

Felix falls quiet then, save for the little moans he starts making when Sylvain wraps his hand around both of them again, rutting against his belly.  _ More,  _ he pleads, and Sylvain wraps his lips around one nipple, then the other, sucking them into wet, pebbled peaks, swollen and pink from his attention.  _ Want your mouth on me,  _ Felix begs, and Sylvain kicks the covers off entirely to sink down the scarred expanse of Felix’s thighs, dragging his mouth anywhere he can get it, licking Felix like a man starved.

“Do you like this? When I use my mouth to taste you?” Sylvain asks, licking a wet stripe up Felix’s leaking cock. He whines and nods, feverish. “Yes.”

“What about when I lick you here?” Sylvain purrs against his hole, swirling his tongue in wide circles. His hands cup Felix’s thighs, folding him in half as he admires the trail of spit he’s left and the patches of pink skin, raw from where his stubble has rubbed against it. He’s always loved the sight of Felix beneath him, wet and open, and this time is no different as he teases a spit-slick finger against him. 

“Y–yes,” Felix cries brokenly, curling his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, scraping against his scalp. “I love when you– when you open me up, fuck me with your fingers, your tongue,  _ fuck,  _ Sylvain, I’m close, I’m close–”

“Already?” He hasn’t been eating Felix out long, but he’s shaking beneath him, his hole quivering around his fingers, precum dribbling messily down his cock to smear against his stomach. But the truth is he’s close too, even though he’s hardly touched himself – watching Felix beg and squirm for him is more than enough to get his dick leaking. “Okay, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Felix gasps when he presses the fat head of his cock up against his hole, making sure he’s lined up perfectly before pushing in. It’s intoxicating how well Felix takes him, and he feeds him his cock with barely any resistance at all until all he can feel is Felix, clenching around him, his tight, slick heat overwhelmingly snug. 

“You always take care of me,” Felix pants. “You always make me feel so good. Love your cock, filling me up, you’re s– so fucking  _ big,  _ love how it feels when you’re deep inside me–”

Sylvain groans, leaning up to silence Felix with a sloppy kiss. The honesty is almost too much. He feels drunk off of the sweet, filthy things he’d never dreamt of spilling from Felix’s mouth. He looks beyond embarrassed, just fucked-out and needy, begging as Sylvain thrusts steadily into him, grinding the head of his cock up against his prostate. “I love when you fuck me hard and fast, I– I love when you come inside, when I can feel you dripping out of me the next morning–”

“Felix, fuck,  _ Felix,”  _ he pants, feeling the way Felix’s body starts to tense up beneath him, taut like a bow. Sweat drips from his brow, trickling down Felix’s cheek as he starts to pick up the pace, smearing kisses anywhere he can reach. “I love you,” he presses into his cheek, scrambling for words, to make any sense of the swell of emotion welling up in him, threatening to send him right over the edge.

“I love you, Sylvain, I–” Felix is crying, Sylvain realizes dazedly, little tears leaking down his face as he whimpers and clenches around him. When he scrambles for his hands, Sylvain laces their fingers together, pressing Felix’s palms down on either side of his head while his hips piston deep and hard. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, want to wake up every day and see your face, I’m–” Felix sobs out a hiccup as Sylvain slows his pace momentarily to wrap a hand around his neglected cock, slick with spit and precum. “I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to say it, I love you, I  _ love _ you–”

“I love you too,” Sylvain gasps, thoroughly overwhelmed with the sweet words and the tight, wet clutch of his hole. He buries himself deep inside and jerks Felix off – it only takes a few easy strokes before he’s coming all over his stomach, sobbing his pleasure and babbling into Sylvain’s neck:  _ wanna marry you when the war is over, keep you forever, have a family, be with you– _

It’s so much – too much – and Sylvain follows shortly after, Felix’s swollen hole milking him until he spills inside with a few erratic thrusts, emptying himself completely.  _ Just how Felix likes it,  _ Sylvain thinks hazily, before collapsing beside him on the sweat-soaked bedroll.

Felix immediately burrows into him, clinging to his side, needy and insistent. It must be a side effect of the spell – he’s normally tolerant of cuddling after sex, but the way he nestles himself against Sylvain, like he can’t bear to be away, is new. Sylvain pulls him in close, mapping his fingers over his shoulders and down his spine, dropping butterfly kisses to the top of his head.

When Felix looks up, he frowns slightly, reaching for his face. “Sylvain. You’re crying.” 

Sylvain blinks. He hadn’t even noticed the small stream of tears leaking from the corners of his eyes in the haze of the blissful afterglow. He laughs, startled. “I guess I am.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.” It’s difficult to wrestle with critical thinking through the fog of his orgasm. He’s not upset, or angry, or frustrated – or any of the things he usually feels when he (rarely) cries. 

“I’m just… really happy.” It feels right, somehow. “I didn’t know that’s how you felt,” he confesses, leaning into Felix’s hand against his jaw. “I’d  _ hoped  _ you felt that way, but I never really knew. I’m so lucky to have you, Fe, I–”

Felix leans up to silence him with a kiss – slow, soothing, loving. When he pulls away, his lashes are wet, clumped together with tears. Sylvain doesn’t know if he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

“I should probably tell you more often then,” Felix murmurs, pressing their foreheads together, exhaling hot against his lips.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Sylvain agrees. Laughter fills their tent as Felix cups both his cheeks and drags him down into another kiss, then another, then another.

**Author's Note:**

> sylvain can cry a little after sex, as a treat
> 
> i'm on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/cherryconke)!


End file.
